Roses for His Omega

by Lorelei M. Hart

  “Wouldn’t that be red?”

  “Don’t be vulgar. You know what I mean.”

  “Pot. Kettle.”

  “Maybe we should stick a red rose right in the middle of the sprays. Rile them up a little bit. I don’t need the money.”

  This woman would do anything to rile someone up in a heartbeat, especially someone sitting a little too high on their horse.

  “I need the money. I don’t have a rich husband who died and left me millions.”

  She rolled her eyes and took a sip of tea only to stick her tongue out. “It’s gone cold. Anyway, I already paid you for the wedding. I figured the money was coming in anyway.”

  A quick check of my bank account on my phone proved her statement.

  “You paid me too much, Aunt Viv.”

  “It’s a tip. Here’s another tip—give me a grandchild, or, technically, a great-niece or nephew. But great-aunt doesn’t really roll off the tongue. They can call me Honey. None of this meemaw, granny stuff. Makes me sound old.”

  Her talking about being old made me yawn.

  “Oh, good grief. Go get your coffee. It’s like you die a little every minute between ten and eleven a.m. Just go.”

  “I’m going. Anything I can get you? A tea that’s actually hot? A cinnamon roll?”

  Aunt Viv gasped as though she’d never realized the coffee shop had pastries. “You devil. Yes. All of it. Buy the whole case!” She threw her arms in the air, spun around, and twirled in a Stevie Nicks-wannabe turn, shawl and all.

  Drama.

  Chapter Three

  Reid

  I arrived at the hotel just in time to hear that they were still doing the wash from the night before. The housekeeper was giving the manager what for about having been the only one on the schedule the week of a wedding, and I could hardly blame her. One housekeeper for an entire hotel, even one as small as this one was? Awful.

  As I made my way to the counter, she pointed at me before giving the manager a waggle of her finger and stomping off. I knew I was going to be on the bad end of the getting-a-room deal, and sure enough, my room had no sheets. I was able to check in and bring my bags up, but going to bed early was so very much not an option.

  If I had any hope of staying awake, coffee was a must. Thankfully, the manager recommended a coffee shop only a few blocks away, so I left my luggage with him, bundled up, and made the trek, not wanting to drive for the foreseeable future. My back was still killing me from the long, stressful drive from the airport.

  The coffee shop was blissfully empty when I arrived, and I settled into a table in the back corner with my black coffee and cinnamon roll. I had to give it to them. The roll was just as amazing as it smelled, and the coffee wasn’t bad, given it wasn’t a brew I normally would choose, but it was the barista’s recommendation.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see an email from my property management company. Nothing good ever came from correspondence with them. Last time, it was to raise the rent, the time before to “explain” why parking was no longer included in our rent, and the time before that was to threaten all their tenants with eviction if they didn’t make sure the dumpsters were closed each night. Yeah, they were just lovely.

  A quick read of the email told me this one was no exception.

  Dear Tenant,

  It has come to our attention that the lease renewal date has come and gone without your signature on the new lease. As per our policy, we are taking this as a termination of our relationship as of the last day of this month. Please arrange with Sally in our office to have an inspection of your apartment upon your departure to determine how much, if any, of your security deposit will be refunded to you. Failure to do so will be considered your agreement to forfeit said deposit.

  Sincerely,

  Robert Jones

  CEO of Jones Property Management.

  “Fuck,” I grumbled as I read it for the third time.

  When the lease was delivered, I’d put off signing it until I figured out things with Topher. How I ever thought for one single moment that he was someone I should date, much less move in with, was beyond me. I’d somehow allowed myself to get caught up in his success and charm. His decent ass didn’t hurt, either. But that didn’t make my decision-making skills any less crap. I knew he wasn’t the one for me, and I had contemplated settling enough to not sign a lease.

  I dialed the number at the bottom of the screen and did like any self-respecting man would do: prepared to grovel.

  “Hello, Jones Property Management. This is Sally. How may I direct your call?” She said it as if there were a twenty-person staff. The office included exactly two people: Sally and her mostly absent boss—aka my slumlord.

  “Hello, Sally, this is Reid Latham and I’m calling about an email I received today.” And how it was filled with some sketchy content, legal-wise even though I brought it on myself by not signing the bloody thing.

  “Reid Latham. Yes, about your lease ending. When would you like to schedule your walk-through?” The click of her tapping on the keyboard filled my ears. What was she pounding on it? “I’m sorry to say the last day of the month we have available is the twenty-fifth, but we do have two time slots that day—three p.m. or five thirty.” She sounded not at all sorry.

  Leave it to my slumlord to illegally hold security deposits over us and then try to shave days off the lease in the same maneuver.

  “I was actually calling because the lease was not signed in error, and I’d like to arrange to keep my place.” I spoke in a hushed voice, not that the barista was listening. She was too busy taking apart some fancy coffee machine.

  “I’m sorry, sir. A new lease for your place has already been signed.”

  Of course it had.

  “Someone signed it sight unseen?” Because I had a feeling that was so not the case. I was beginning to get angry and not the shout-at-people anger, but that frustrated kind that has you on the verge of either crying or screaming into a pillow and you weren’t sure quite which.

  “Of course not. We showed them around. The lease states clearly that the final month of the lease, the management may show the apartment without notice to fill the vacancy.”

  Note to self: next time I get a lease, I need to read that bad boy all the way through to the end and not sign it without even glancing at the terms because it was a clean, cheap, and fairly safe place.

  “So, you had strangers in my home.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose, trying not to let the unshed tears fall. I’d been missing a ten dollar bill I swore I left on the counter for the kid across the hall’s fundraiser. At the time, I thought I just was remembering wrong. Now, I knew it was more than that. I could only hope it was the only thing missing.

  “Not alone, sir.” She paused, and I sat there, unsure of what to say. My apartment had new inhabitants in only a couple of weeks, and I had no place to go. Nowhere. All because I’d thought with my dick. “So, three or five thirty p.m. on the twenty-fifth?”

  “That would mean I needed to be out days before my lease expires.” And I didn’t even have a place to go after that.

  “Which is why you should have called as soon as you knew you weren’t going to continue your lease, sir.”

  Because I am a freaking moron.

  “Are there any other apartments available in my building?” I hadn’t heard of anyone planning to move, but I didn’t know everyone, either.

  “No, but we have some in other parts of the city.” She started tapping away again.

  “In the same price range?”

  “No, sir. Would you like me to email you an application? Upon its acceptance, we can schedule some viewings.”

  “Application? I have rented from you for years and have never once been late.”

  I would not cry, yell, or otherwise make a scene. I would not.

  “It is our policy, sir. So should I mail it?”

  “Yes. Please. And would you be able to email me a copy of my old lease? I’
m out of town and unable to see the original.” If I’d kept it.

  “Very well, sir. Anything else I can do for you today?”

  Give me back my apartment?

  “No.” I hung up as the first tear fell. I stood up to grab a napkin to wipe away the tears, catching the top of my cup on my coat sleeve, tipping it over and spilling all the places, which, of course, led to the full release of my tears. So much for being an awesomely graceful person. I was a flipping hot mess.

  I was a soon-to-be homeless single man going to a wedding on the most romantic night of the year, currently renting a hotel room with no sheets, my shirt and pants covered in tepid coffee. My life was going fan-freaking-tastic.

  I was able to grab enough napkins to clean up the mess but still had an hour before my room was going to be ready, so my choices were to sit in the cold lobby looking like a loser, or to grab a fresh cup of coffee and also look like a loser but with less of an audience. I picked grabbing a coffee.

  I walked up to the counter and ordered my drink, this time opting for the hazelnut I preferred. There must’ve been a shift change in the middle of my coffee catastrophe because, this time, a young man around my age waited on me.

  “That will be three seventy-four, please.” He placed the hot beverage in front of me.

  “I grabbed my wallet, thankful it wasn’t wet, and pulled out my library card, followed by my hotel key, followed by my license before finding my I-probably-shouldn’t-use-this card from the back and handed it to him.

  “Do you have a cafe card, or are you playing coffee roulette?” a voice asked from behind. Not just any voice, either, the sexiest voice I’d heard in a long time that wasn’t attached to a foreign accent. It was just deep and rich enough to tell me his bedroom voice would be out-and-out dangerous, but not so low you wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

  I turned in the direction of the voice, and my mouth dropped open as the most clear cerulean eyes caught mine. “W-what?” I stammered like a weirdo.

  “Do you have a cafe card you are looking for?” He eyed my array of cards on the counter. “Or would you like to play coffee roulette and use the communal one. Both get you the free refills, but with the communal one you might get a free coffee or you might make the free coffee possible for the next person.”

  Why had the first barista not told me about that earlier? I could’ve not been paying an extra four bucks for spilled coffee.

  “Ummm, roulette?” I wasn’t going to be here long enough to get a free coffee on my own, not that I had enough money to, given the extent of my awesome new predicament.

  The barista took out a card and scanned it before handing me a receipt.

  “Congrats, you won coffee roulette.” He smiled, more at the hot man behind me than at me. Not that I could blame him. Yum.

  “Umm, thanks,” I said to both men as I slid my cards back into my wallet. “That was nice of you. I didn’t know it was an option, and I spilled my first coffee, so this is nice.” Why was I babbling?

  “Anytime.” He leaned in a little closer, and his scent of amber and clove had me wanting to rub my nose into the crook of his neck. Alphas always smelled amazing, but his scent had me thinking things I most assuredly should not be thinking in a coffee shop. “You okay?” He spoke in a hushed voice.

  “Umm, yeah. Bad day.” I stood up straight, trying to regain some semblance of dignity before picking up my cup. “Thanks again.” I made my way to the station with the lids and slapped one on as the sexy man ordered two cups to go. Of course he wasn’t single. No one both that good-looking and kind ever was.

  I buttoned my coat and forayed into the cold, deciding it better to sit in the lobby alone for most of an hour than to let him see me at a table all alone as if I had nowhere to go and no one to go with, even if both of those were true.

  Chapter Four

  Kayson

  “What delights did you bring, dear fellow?” I was hoping the flair from before had tired Aunt Viv out, but it seemed to give her a new spike of energy.

  “I…” Looking back and forth at the cups in my hands, one my double espresso and the other a chamomile tea, because Aunt Viv and calming the hell down, venti style. “I forgot. I can go back. Give me a minute.” No way I would admit to her or myself that I really wanted to go back and see if that delicious new addition to our town was still nursing his sad hazelnut Americano.

  Especially Aunt Viv. She might just fairy dance her way into the coffee shop to get a peek for herself.

  “You forgot my...why are your cheeks red?” She paused with one eyebrow arched. “Well, well, maybe you did pick up a yummy little treat, after all. Did you get a phone number?”

  “No. I mean, there wasn’t a yummy treat. I mean, I don’t know his—nobody. There was nobody.”

  Her petite nose wrinkled, and her lip curled like something in the room smelled bad. It was probably my lies.

  “Come now, Kayson. I know I taught you to lie better than that. Give up the details, or I will march down there right this minute and embarrass the heck out of you—on purpose. Because, let’s face it, I have to really work at being embarrassing.”

  “I don’t know his name.” No point in denying the fact.

  “Basic conversation, darling. Hello, my name is Kayson. What’s your name, hot pants?”

  I choked on my first sip of caffeinated liquid. “Not in a million years would I ever call someone hot pants. No matter how much the name fit.”

  She clapped after setting her tea down. This cup would go cold, too, before she indulged. I just knew it. “Nice butt. Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Go on. I need juicy details.”

  “He’s staying at the Mapleville Hotel. He dropped his hotel key. He was nervous, jittery. Cute as all get-out. No one that gorgeous could be single.”

  “You are,” she remarked with a pull of her ear. She did that when trying to be coy.

  “I am single.” I blew out a weighted breath. “I should’ve asked for his name.”

  “Yes, you should’ve. But a little visit to the…” She never finished her sentence. In all fairness, she could’ve finished her sentence, but I didn’t hear anything past the antiquated bell ding as the door was opened and Mr. Tall, Americano, and Nervous walked in, looking around like he’d never seen fresh flowers.

  Our workshop opened into the main store area so customers could see us at work, much like the mall pretzel stands where you can watch some guy roll and shape his creations. Aunt Viv thought it made us transparent and gave the customers a sense our job was more than gardening. It was art.

  The guy from the coffee shop came in, eyes roaming around the shop like a kid in a toy store. Must be a city boy. Then again, I could tell that from his high-dollar trench coat.

  “Good morning, young man. How can we help you?”

  Aunt Viv’s voice pierced my fazed-out state and brought me back to reality. He was here. The one who smelled like sandalwood and cedar. The omega I’d seen at the coffee shop.

  “I’m killing time, actually. This place is lovely. Are you the owner?” He spoke to Aunt Viv but looked at me. His eyes, like pools of warm caramel, begged for me to step in and become entranced.

  “My Kayson is almost the owner. He will be whenever I decide to kick the bucket. But I’m not quite ready yet.” She reached out and put a hand on the guy’s arm. “You see, there’s still things to take care of and places to visit and men to bed. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The man tipped his head. “Lovers to take.”

  Aunt Viv’s eyes darted back and forth between us while I still sat like an oaf on the stool at my workbench. “So, what’s your favorite flower...I’m sorry, I forgot to ask your name.”

  He smiled at her, revealing dimples on either side of his chin. “My name is Reid, ma’am. And you? You must be Vivian?”

  She put a hand to her chest, surprised. “How did you know?”

  “The sign. Vivian’s Roses. I thought it must be your namesake.”
/>
  “I am. And this is my nephew, Kayson. Although he was just telling me you two met at our town’s little coffee house. Isn’t that right, Kayson.”

  No tact, no couth. None. Aunt Viv was a force to be reckoned with.

  “And weren’t you just telling me that it’s time for your massage?”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “I actually am late, now. Thanks to you. Reid, don’t let him talk you into buying a thing. Whatever you want is on me. Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.” My aunt whispered the last sentence to Reid, but I heard it all the same.

  “Thank you. Have a great massage.”

  “Oh, I will. Greta has the hands of the gods.”

  Silence hung between us as Aunt Viv grabbed her gaudy bag and, with a flip of her hair, scooted out the door.

  “Well, what’s your pleasure? Aunt Viv doesn’t take no for an answer, and neither do I.” I could’ve sworn I saw him shiver.

  “What? Oh, flowers. Right. Um...I don’t have a favorite.”

  I cocked my head sideways, studying this omega. He was sure of himself. I wanted to figure him out.

  “Then, let’s find you one. Everyone should have a favorite.”

  Chapter Five

  Reid

  “No, it’s really okay. I wasn’t lying when I said I was just killing time.” And, of course, of all the places in Mapleville for me to decide to waste time, it had to be the exact place Mr. Sexy Alpha from the coffee shop had headed. That didn’t at all look stalkerish or anything.

  “You heard my aunt.” He stepped closer, his scent wrapping around me and blending beautifully with the aroma of the flowers as if he were born for this field. “You want me to get in trouble,” he added conspiratorially.

  “She did seem adamant.” His scent was too strong, his smile too bright, his eyes too focused on me to deny him, my embarrassment over my inadvertent stalking dissipating by the second.

  “Let’s see.” I tapped my chin as if thinking very deeply. “I probably don’t have a place to put it, so maybe one of those lilies.” I pointed to a small bucket in the refrigerated case with the tiniest lilies I’d ever seen. They were adorable. “I could find something to put it in, I’m sure.”